Carnelian and Ice
by Raum
Summary: COMPLETE - "A man struggling to escape from the darkness, and a woman who thinks she doesn't deserve the light. How will an ice sculpture affect their lives?" AU with vampires.
1. Like a Block of Ice

**Raum  
**

**Carnelian and Ice  
**

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**_Like a Block of Ice_**

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**Here's the story behind this story: some months ago I was thinking about a one-shot with a female vampire and a human man, as a gift for my friend Camilla. Then I met SatinCoveredSteel; we began to talk and she made me fall in love with Alaska. Since she told me about the World Ice Art Championship in Fairbanks, I've been thinking about a story inspired by those amazing ice sculptures. Here it is. SatinCoveredSteel held my hand during every step of this journey. I can tell you it's been a fabulous experience. Are you ready to join us?**

_Thank you!_** to Marlena516 and jmolly.  
**

**A last note: as you probably know, I don't own _Twilight_.**

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Fairbanks, Alaska

"_The __light_..."

An old woman squints her eyes, trying to read the entire title of the ice sculpture aloud.

A man nudges her from the side. "Come on, Mom. I promised Danielle I'd be back for dinner."

She points at the carving. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

The son barely looks at it. "It sure is. Too bad the artist picked a name that's longer than the actual sculpture."

A couple of boys breeze past the carving, but they don't spare it more than a distracted glance.

"Wow!" one of them exclaims. "The guy who made it sure has a way with a scalpel."

The artist scoffs at the rough compliment. From her hidden spot nearby, she wonders if any of the visitors have noticed the words she's engraved on the ice, or thought about the meaning of her creation.

This is the first time she has shown a piece of her art in public, although she's using a pseudonym and never interacts with the visitors or the staff of the World Ice Art Championships. The idea of an ice sculpture fascinated her, because she considers herself like a block of ice that retains only the appearance of the human she was.

Preparing her entry for the competition proved to be challenging, because she had to master her strength and carve the ice block as slowly as she could to avoid raising suspicions. She wanted to stay hidden, so she wore – and still wears – a heavy winter jacket matched with gloves, hat, and a thick scarf; she's so bundled up that she could pose as a lean man.

The result is the sculpture in three parts the visitors are looking at.

Layers of flames represent the life she lost in her change. They're so finely shaped that they seem made of crystal. When the carvings are lit up in the evening, the red and orange hues she's chosen for the theatrical lights make the fire come to life. On the base of the flames, she's engraved quotes from the poems she loved as a human. Most of them are love verses, representing the love she dreamed of finding, which is now unattainable.

The second part of the sculpture creates a strong contrast with the fire. The ice is shaped in broken columns, like huge splinters of glass surrounded by the flames. It represents the way she emerged from her transformation – frozen, invulnerable, inaccessible. An inhuman creature. A vampire.

The third element is the one that tells more about her life, and at the same time, it's the most mysterious. A broken chain links the flames and the columns. Small protuberances hang from the links of the chain, as if dewdrops had frozen there. Actually, she'd had blood drops in mind, with the chain being the symbol of her bloodlust—the chain which keeps her a prisoner of the monster she's become.

In the evening, a white beam enhances the top of the ice columns, as if they are pointing to a distant light. It's a far cry from the version of the sculpture the artist had imagined at first. In her previous version, the chain wasn't broken. As long as she was thinking about the blood she'd taken, she believed that the light was unachievable. But then she tried to see beyond the disgust for the inhuman creature she was. She considered the years she had spent never killing a human, and always taking as little nourishment as possible from the animals on which she fed. On a whim, she broke the chain and picked the title for her sculpture:

_The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it._

Bella still knows that light and darkness will always fight in her neverending life. But for once she doesn't want to believe that the light never stands a chance.

Thanks to the unseasonably mild weather, there are many visitors in the evening. Mostly, there are chattering groups of young people, who enjoy the opportunity to spend a few hours having fun and sipping a hot chocolate at the exhibition café, more than the chance to admire the works of art. Little do they know that, if the warm weather continues, there is a risk that the carvings will melt sooner than usual, and the viewing will be cut short. That happened twice before, at the end of the nineties.

Bella is in the midst of imagining her masterpiece melting into puddles of muddy water, when something piques her curiosity. A solitary man has stopped by her carving, looking at it longer than anyone else has done so far. Tentatively, he reaches out a hand as if he's going to touch it, but then thinks better of it and refrains.

She's tempted to move closer to him, but stops. She's kept herself at a good distance from the people, not wanting to test her control too much. The visitors' scents are mingled in tantalizing waves that crash over her whenever the wind shifts. Good thing that she fed in the early morning. Taking care to remain inconspicuous, she leaves her secluded spot and moves onto the wide path. She edges around behind the man, toward the opposite side of the site that encompasses her sculpture, trying to catch a better view of his face. She wonders if he'll still be there by the time she's far enough around to see him from the front. He stays. She watches as he bends to read the title of the sculpture and the plaque with the artist's presentation. _You __won't __find __much_, she thinks. She has provided only a very short and vague biography: _I.__S. __Carnelian __is __a __resident __of __Alaska __and __a __self-taught __artist_.

In choosing her pseudonym, Isabella Swan kept her initials but added the name of the red gemstone that reminds her of the way her eyes looked after her transformation. She cringes because it's the way they still look, after what happened two weeks ago.

When the man stands back, his eyes meet hers for a moment. Then his emerald green pools look beyond the sculpture. Bella is mesmerized by the kindness and depth those eyes hold. If eyes could caress, this man's irises would do it. She stares at him as he roams the carving with his gaze, lingering on every detail. His hat and scarf don't allow her to catch more than a glimpse of his facial expression, but the attention he gives to each detail of her work is enough to intrigue her. She feels as if he's looking right through her, as if he can see her soul.

But she knows she doesn't have a soul anymore.

She bows her head and shuts her eyes, recalling the verses she inscribed on her creation. That unknown man has seen them – he has read them. She saw how his eyes glistened when he read the only quote she's engraved on one of the columns – on the highest one. _Per __aspera __ad __astra_: through hardships to the stars. It's one of her favorites, and she feels as if she's shared an intimate memory with him. Moments of the life of the girl who loved that quote parade in her mind. She recalls the hours she spent in her backyard, lying on a blanket and reading until it seemed that she was actually visiting the world in which the book's characters belonged.

She can still remember the sadness she felt when she finished a book she'd particularly enjoyed – the bittersweet pleasure of the final pages of a beloved story, when it was time to say goodbye to the fictional people who had kept her company. After saying goodbye to so many books – and to the worlds they had disclosed to her – Bella had been forced to say goodbye to her human world.

A pang of longing crashes over her at the thought.

When she looks up again, the man's already gone.

A few minutes later, Bella leaves the exhibition, too. She won't be here tomorrow night. The thought of Mike, and the date they have then, gives her some comfort on her way back home.

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**Thank you for reading! Your thoughts?**

**The story is due to be updated every Monday.**

**I'm on Twitter (RaumTweet).**

**_Carnelian and Ice_'s extras are posted on: h.t.t.p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. c.o.m/ **


	2. His Life in Her Hands

**Raum  
**

**Carnelian and Ice  
**

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**_His Life in Her Hands  
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**Happy Monday! You really made my week with your amazing support after the first chapter. Thank you. Many of you asked about Mike and about Bella's (red) eyes. Answers are coming.**

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Bella was hunting near the Chatanika River when the mouthwatering scent of human blood captured her attention. She couldn't help but follow that luscious call, and came upon an unconscious man under a tree. _

_The scent was powerful; his leg was injured, and blood was spilling from a gash on his thigh. Against her better judgment, Bella moved toward him. Along with the overwhelming scent of his blood, she detected a distinct canine odor on the trail, and she surmised that he was a dog musher who had lost his dogs and sled, perhaps at the same time he had sustained the injury that called to her and drew her closer._

_Bella struggled to restrain herself...but failed. _

_She managed to limit herself to lapping up the spilled blood, further opening the wound with her stony nail, instead of sinking her teeth into his flesh._

_Then she sealed the wound with her tongue; she carefully lifted the dog musher and ran toward the city. With an anonymous call, she signaled the presence of an unconscious, wounded man in an alley not far from the hospital._

_In the following day's newspaper, a short article reported that the man would fully recover, and he kept saying that an angel had saved him in the woods. The doctors believed that it must have been the shock that had made him see such unreal things._

-x-x-x-x-x-

Bella stares at her reflection in the mirror. Two weeks after she's tasted human blood, the color of her irises resembles drops of red wine falling in a glass of water. She picks a set of contact lenses for the evening. Deep blue, which will give her gaze a violet undertone. _Will __Mike __like __it? _she wonders. _Will __he __notice __it __at __all?_

The eyeliner goes smoothly on her lid, and the result is flawless on the first attempt. She checks her dress, smoothing an invisible wrinkle. Humans can't notice every detail, but she feels better knowing that her appearance is impeccable. Even the sound of her stiletto heels clicking on the floor is rhythmic. As a human girl, she wouldn't have been able to wear shoes like these without shuffling her feet or finding something to trip over after just a few steps. Remembering that the stunning creature in the mirror and that human girl are the same person isn't easy.

The wind is blowing cold as Bella walks toward the café where she will meet her date for the evening. It can't make her skin warmer, but she raises her coat's lapel anyway; with her long coat and her hair loose on her shoulders, she doesn't draw too much attention, and it makes her walk more pleasant.

Through the windows of the café she spots Mike, already waiting for her. She allows herself a moment, eyes closed, to recall how his scent appealed to her. _A __cool __beer __on __a __summer __afternoon. __Laughs __of __friends __during __a __holiday._ She surmises that his blood would taste slightly watery, but refreshing indeed. When she looks at him again, she frowns.

Mike isn't alone.

Bella stays outside, stepping into the darkness. From there, she can catch his conversation without being seen.

"What a surprise, Jessica!" she hears him exclaiming. "It's been, what? Two years?"

"Two and a half, actually. Since graduation." Not a wise move on Jessica's behalf. Mike must have already surmised that she's been counting the days. "I thought you were going back home after the end of the student exchange."

"I thought that, too. Then I was admitted into grad school here and decided to stay for a while. I work part-time in a mall. And you? What are you doing here?"

"I went out to dinner with some friends. I needed a coffee on my way home, so here I am." She giggles. "Or did you mean here as in the city?"

Hidden in a corner, Bella holds her breath. Mike is at ease with Jessica; he smiles as he looks at her pretty face and doesn't spare even a glance toward the door. Bella is late by now, but he doesn't seem to realize it.

She could go in and stop all this. With only a little effort, she could claim his smiles for herself. In her mind, the way she had envisioned the night takes shape.

Bella had imagined herself talking with Mike for a short while – he would have a drink, she would politely decline his offer and tell him her cover story. She would pose as a biology student, and it's not a complete lie, because she had been just that when she was human.

She recalls how Mike flirted with her when they met. He told her how lucky he felt to be on duty at the hardware store when she went there to purchase some supplies for her house. Even though she was wearing glasses and casual clothes – a part of her masquerade to pass unnoticed and plain as possible – she immediately noticed she had caught his attention. He complimented her and invited her to go for a drink with him on the following Friday.

Bella's body hums as she thinks about Mike's scent and the moment when she will be completely wrapped in it: the soft texture of his skin, the warmth of his body over hers. She would be delicate with him – she knows how to handle a human without harming him, even in her highest state of arousal. It wouldn't be her first time. She's had some one-night stands – just a few hours of bliss.

She could have all this, right now.

Then she would disappear. If Mike were to attempt to contact her again, her phone number won't work, and eventually he would give up and forget her. Every piece of her personal information would prove to be a lie. He would go on with his life, without any more interference from her. It would be as if she had never existed.

Bella looks at the pretty blonde in front of Mike. In some ways, she feels more similar to that unknown girl, who is trying to reconnect with him and to draw his attention, than to the gorgeous vampire she can see reflected in the café's window.

Mike touches Jessica's hand lightly. _Soft. __It __must __feel __so __soft __and __warm_, Bella considers. _It __must __feel __so __familiar __and __comfortable_. He doesn't flinch, and Jessica doesn't have to make up any excuse, because she doesn't have cold skin or a stony body of which to be ashamed.

Jessica beams at Mike and blushes. Bella rests a hand on her own cheek. She used to blush, too, when she was a human. Now nothing can make her marble skin change its color.

"Can you stay awhile?" Mike asks, his voice unsure. Only now does he shoot a quick, nervous glance at the door. Bella cringes, knowing that he is uncomfortable at the thought that she might arrive at any moment; it is clear to her that she is merely in the way. If she stands Mike up tonight, she'll do him a favor.

Mike will never know that his life has been in Bella's hands – twice.

When they first met, she could have preyed on him. She could have followed him out of the store at the end of his shift, stunned him and drained his warm blood. He would have never woken up.

A human heart beats millions and millions of times in a lifespan. What are a few minutes, compared to years? But if the heart stops beating for those few minutes, the entire body dies. The human body's fragility never fails to amaze Bella. Was she also so frail? She can't remember it anymore. The memory of what she feels when she feeds – the heartbeat of her prey growing slower and slower – never leaves her. The line between life and death is so thin, that every time she has to drain an animal, it's like looking down from the top of a cliff.

This evening, Mike's life is in Bella's hands again. If she stays and enters the café, she'll be able to claim him with a single glance – the human girl would feel insignificant in front of her. Maybe Mike and Jessica will never meet again, and tomorrow it will be too late for their brief encounter to change their story.

Bella closes her eyes, knowing it would be the case. Then she turns and walks on down the street, bidding Mike and Jessica her unspoken farewell.

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_Thank you for reading! Reviewers get a poem._

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I can't read your mind, but I'll make a guess about your question: _where's Edward?_ He says he's flattered that you think of him and assures that he's coming back in the next chapter - due to be posted next Monday.

What do you think will happen?

**_Thank you!_ **to my friends **SatinCoveredSteel, Marlena580, **and** Jmolly**, and a special hug to **Camilla10**, who inspires me.

I'm on Twitter (RaumTweet).

_Carnelian and Ice_'s extras are posted on: h.t.t.p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. c.o.m/


	3. Whiskey and Rain

**Raum  
**

**Carnelian and Ice  
**

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**___Whiskey and Rain_**

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**Happy Monday and thanks again for your continued support. Edward is back!**

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

On her way back home, Bella looks at the moon dancing on the water of the Chena River. She feels colder than she did on her way out, and knows that has nothing to do with the gusts of bitter wind that strike her.

Sleet has fallen and is turning to snow as the night wears on. The icy surface of the Peger Road bridge glistens in the light of the streetlamps. Bella walks slowly, lost in her thoughts. By now, the café where she was supposed to meet with Mike would be closed. Did Mike and Jessica leave together? Did he put his arm around her shoulders as they walked out the door? Did that make Jessica feel protected? Bella wonders how it would feel to be in the arms of someone stronger than she, without always needing to be careful with him.

She hears a bell tolling in the distance. Midnight.

"Fuck!"

A styrofoam cup and a yell hit her at the same time.

Bella looks down at her coat, where a dark brown stain is spreading through the fabric; the smell of coffee wafts up and assaults her senses. As she tilts her head up, she sees a man pulling at his hair and stuttering his apologies.

"Excuse me, Miss...what have I done?! F..."

He smells like whiskey and rain. His elegant coat and the trousers of his dark suit are wet and caked with dirty snow–-she wonders how long he must have been under the freezing rain and snow to ruin it this way.

Bella inhales a second time and shudders.

She has to hold on the bridge railing. If she doesn't calm down...she doesn't want to think about what will happen. She puts a hand on her mouth, covering her traitorous lips, which are already baring her teeth. She tries to focus on the river below her, but the man's blood is a mighty call. His heartbeat echoes in Bella's ears, tempting her to move closer. Bella tightens her grip on the rail; her fingers will probably leave a dent there, but that's the least of her worries.

She stares at the water, trying to distract herself from the delicious smell of the man's blood–it reminds her of hot, thick chocolate. She swallows the venom in her mouth, pushing away the image of her hands around the man's neck, of his nourishing blood going down her throat – it would be velvety and satiating, able to warm her inside, inebriating. She considers jumping off the bridge. The man would freak out seeing her falling, but he would be out of danger. Out of the danger she poses.

Bella balks when a hand touches her shoulder.

"Miss, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" he asks her, his concern making him frown.

_No! _she wants to scream. _Yes, __don't __worry __and __go __away_, her rational side begs her to say. _I __don't __know! _would be the closest to the truth.

Unable to move, she looks at him. His eyes are roaming her face; they are captivating and make her think of green leaves fluttering in the wind.

She knows those eyes.

Bella tenses. The venom in her body has already disintegrated her contact lenses. She's expecting that the man will run away, frightened, as soon as the streetlamps allow him to see her inhuman irises.

But he stays.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his voice soothing. He appears concerned, but not frightened. He's actually worried about her, and it's not something to which she's accustomed. "I don't know what happened to me," he mumbles, running a hand over his forehead. He isn't wearing a hat, and his hair is tousled. "I threw away that damn cup, without watching. I'm sorry it hit you, I'm sorry I swore, I'm sorry..."

Bella struggles to regain her composure. She takes a step back, still leaning against the bridge rail, but not gripping it anymore. The man's scent continues to envelope her, but its overwhelming force is less shocking now. She's touched that he apologized for swearing at her; who does that nowadays?

"It's okay," she mutters. She notices an unusual note of hesitation in her voice and clears her throat. She knows what she should do: put as much distance as possible between her teeth and his skin. But she can't.

Going away would mean having to leave behind the slow, fragrant waves of his scent. She swallows hard. Her throat burns, but she needs the ache, like a scorching shower after being outside too long on a winter day.

She stares at him, motionless. He looks apprehensively at her. Worried for her. Unbelievable. Were it not for the crease between his eyebrows or for his disheveled hair, she would wonder if he's a figment of her imagination.

Not even his features can explain the effect he's having on her. Her shock can't be only on account of his attractive body—he's not the first tall and lean man she has met. She looks at his square jaw, tracing it with her gaze, and follows his tongue as it quickly moistens his full lips. His eyes keep her spellbound. Only in the gazes of children has she seen the same sincerity and purity. Only in old and wise people has she recognized the same acceptance.

She gives a glance at the street: they are alone in the night. The thought that she could take him and run away with her prey, unseen, creeps into her mind and makes her shudder.

_Don't __look __at __me_, she silently pleads. _Don't __make __me __witness __the __moment __when __you __realize __that __I'm __a __monster_.

She feels his voice vibrating in his throat and can sense his breath even before catching his words. "May I help you?" he offers.

In the middle of a cold night, alone and messy on a bridge after throwing a cup of coffee at a stranger, it seems that he's the one who needs help, rather than being able to provide it.

He opens his coat, retrieves his wallet from his suit jacket, and takes out his business card.

"I'm Edward Masen." He looks at the card still in his hand. "I'll have to change the references on this, though," he mutters.

"Nice to meet you, Edward. I'm Isabella." She takes his card.

"I'm afraid I ruined your coat," he continues. "May I at least pay for the laundry service? You can call the number on the card and send me the bill."

She shakes her head. "There's no problem, really."

"I want to apologize for my outburst," he insists. "I feel like I lost my mind today."

"Any trouble?" Bella recognizes her voice now. She knows that he will find it seductive – humans are predictable, after all.

"It's been a hard day, to put it mildly," he sighs. He relaxes and leans with his elbows on the bridge rail, apparently welcoming the opportunity to get his worries off his chest. "I was fired today," he blurts. "I spent all evening wandering around the city and ended up missing the last bus to my hotel. I was trying to clear my mind before calling a taxi."

Bella scans his card: _Edward __Masen,__ D. Eng. __Associate __Engineer. _She notices he holds a doctorate degree in engineering and seems to have lost quite a prestigious job.

Edward looks at his ruined suit and shoots another glance at her stained coat. "Just to go out with a bang, I made this mess too," he mutters, motioning at her and himself.

Bella can't bring herself to feel sorry that Edward hasn't caught his bus in time. She takes in every detail of his gorgeous features, glad that they'll be committed to her memory.

"They say that tomorrow is another day, don't they?" Bella asks him softly.

"I hope that's the case. After all, tomorrow could hardly be worse for me than today." He smiles at her, and Bella is spellbound. His smile deserves to be fixed in one of her paintings as soon as she goes home. It will be like drawing the best dawn she's ever admired. But going home would mean she'd have to leave Edward, and she can't resolve to do so.

"I live a couple of blocks from here," she tells him. "I'm afraid being outside in this weather waiting for a taxi might give you a cold." The irony isn't lost on her: a vampire is giving advice about health to a human, just after inviting him to her home.

Edward doesn't answer immediately. Bella can see that he's wavering; she isn't used to this kind of hesitation. She smiles at him and follows every second of his reaction: his heartbeat accelerates; his pupils widen slightly. She enjoys the way she's dazzling him.

"I don't want to bother you..." he mumbles.

"You won't." Her voice comes out velvety. His features are more relaxed, and she can tell he's fascinated by the idea of following her. Despite this, he doesn't seem quite ready to accept.

She plans her next step out to herself. "You had a hard day," she observes. She tilts her head at him. "Cheering you up would be my pleasure."

They walk together toward her house.

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_Thank you for reading! Reviewers get a poem._

* * *

And so it begins. Theories, anyone? Drop me a line telling me what you're expecting. The next chapter is due to be posted next Monday.

**_Thank you!_ **to my friends **SatinCoveredSteel, Marlena580, **and** Jmolly**, and a special hug to **Camilla10**.

I'm on Twitter (RaumTweet).

_Carnelian and Ice_'s extras (pics of the places mentioned in this story, as well as the story banner and blinkie) are posted on MyReadingLounge: h.t.t.p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. c.o.m/


	4. Darlingtonia

**Raum  
**

**_Carnelian and Ice_  
**

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**___Darlingtonia_**

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**Thanks for all the love you send me through your reviews and messages. It means a lot to me. I'd like to send a special thought to the people who are currently suffering because of the hurricane Sandy. Please stay safe.  
**

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

As Edward enters her apartment, Bella closes the door and leans against it for a moment.

He can't know that, from now on, she could keep him at her place with very little effort, should she be so inclined. She fantasizes about taking care of him and imagines herself making him happy.

With a sigh, she moves away from the door. Who could ever be happy with a monster? Who could be happy with her? Bella moves toward the living room, but when she sees what Edward is doing, she tenses. This side of her was never meant to be revealed.

Edward seems hypnotized by the paintings before his eyes. No one but their creator has ever seen them. Moving silently, Bella goes to stand beside him and stares at his perfect profile as he examines every detail of her works. She recalls the day she made her first painting. It's the one she decided to hang up in the foyer.

"It's amazing," he murmurs, without averting his eyes from it. "It seems real, so alive."

Bella chuckles softly. _If __you __only __knew __that __you're __the __only __one __alive __here_.

"What's its name?" he asks.

"_Darlingtonia_."

He quirks an eyebrow at her. "Is it the title of the painting or the name of the flower?"

"Both."

"I've never heard of it."

"It's a carnivorous flower," she explains. He gives the work of art another quick glance, as if he can't believe that such a delicate flower is a predator in its world. That's the reason why she chose to draw it: as a vampire, she's physically attractive to her prey, just like a carnivorous flower.

"Not so beautiful anymore?" she guesses.

A light smile makes his eyes shine. "Why not?"

"Because its beauty is nothing but a way to lure its prey," she seethes, her voice devoid of any tenderness. "Because it's even more dangerous than attractive. Because...it can't help but harm whoever finds her fascinating." _Her_. She's not talking about the flower anymore, and the pronoun has just given the truth away.

Edward doesn't say a word when her bitter little rant is over and doesn't avert his eyes from her. She looks at him in disbelief, ready for a question about her red eyes or for a sign of discomfort. She braces herself for what he's going to say.

"Your eyes are..." His voice is warm and low. She thinks it's a pity that such a musical tone is about to point out her abnormality. He hesitates. She wonders what word he'll choose. _Red. __Horrible. __Inhuman_.

"...sad," he continues in a whisper, talking as if her sadness were his own.

Bella bows her head. No one has ever noticed anything like that about her. She's unfamiliar with the territory they've crossed into, and she stiffens.

Edward is the first to break the silence. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No, no," she replies quickly and goes to hang her coat, putting some distance between them. He's still looking at her – she can feel it. When she turns toward him, she doesn't notice anything but awe, and it surprises her because she's used to seeing hunger in the eyes of men, as if their gaze could mirror her thirst. Sometimes it's like they're stripping her of her clothes, to the point that more than once she had the urge to run away. With Edward, she feels a pull instead, as if his embrace would be a refuge waiting for her.

"Maybe you could use a cup of coffee, but I'm afraid I don't have any in the house at the moment."

"I've already drunk far too much for tonight," he admits. The note of whiskey mingled with the rich aroma of his blood confirms that he isn't referring to just the coffee.

Bella switches on a dim light and motions to a couch in the living room. Edward is the first person she's invited into her house, but she feels at ease with him.

They move toward the couch, but he stops himself before sitting down and points to his clothes. "My trousers are wet and dirty. I don't want to soil your furniture." He takes his cell phone and fidgets with the keys. "I should call a taxi."

Bella bites on her lower lip – a nervous habit she's kept from her human past – before speaking. "Would you stay for the night?"

Edward seems taken aback.

"There's a guest room," she adds softly. "I can lend you a t-shirt and sweat pants, and if I put your clothes in the washing machine, they'll be ready in the morning."

"You're very kind, Isabella. But...do you feel comfortable with that? I mean...I'm a stranger, in your house..."

She understands how unguarded her behavior must appear to him. The thought that, after all, even a strong human would be no match for her strength has often made her brave. None of the few men she's gone out with has ever seemed concerned for her like Edward. No one has ever looked at anything but her appealing body and the chance to get some easy pleasure without further worries.

"Are you going to hurt me?" she challenges.

Edward recoils, horrified by the mere thought. "Never."

Bella smiles at him, touched by his promise. "So I trust you," she tells him quietly. "On the bridge, you offered to help me, and I'd just like to do the same. You can use the bathroom down the corridor, and I'll fetch you some dry clothes."

He runs a hand through his hair, making the strands stick out in an even more unruly manner than before. "Thank you."

When he comes out from the bathroom, his muscles seem less tense. The large white t-shirt Bella managed to find in her closet hugs Edward's well-defined chest, and her loose, gray sweatpants are too short for him.

Finally, he gives her a relaxed smile. She can see how his eyes become even lighter when he smiles, their hue reminding her of the blue-green sea she's admired in a painting by Monet – _Fisherman's __Cottage __on __the __Cliffs __at __Varengeville_. She saw it at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, on a work trip. Paintings, photographs, movies...those are the only ways left for her to enjoy the sun, since she can't walk freely in the bright light anymore, like she used to do.

Edward comes to sit beside Bella on the couch, where she's carefully positioned herself against the lamp. This way she can see him well, while the red hue of her eyes won't stand out too much...or so she hopes. She's put on a new pair of contact lenses for good measure, but they won't last long.

"May I ask you how it is that you got fired?"

Edward's expression darkens, but he nods. "I work as an engineer in Anchorage, but recently I've been working on a new project in Fairbanks, and I came here for an inspection. Today, out of the blue, it turned out that the sponsors had withdrawn their funding." His jaw clenches as he apparently recalls what happened a few hours ago. "My boss was the one who told me the news...we've known each other for years. I can't believe he didn't know anything about it until today, and yet he didn't give anything away. He and his partners know my skills, and I'm sure that, had I begged hard enough, I could have gotten another assignment. But I didn't. I don't want to be that person anymore. I made a scene, and...I ended up on the bridge where you found me, jobless and angry, throwing coffee around."

"What could you have done, if they had warned you?"

He grimaces. "I got a job offer less than a month ago. The salary wasn't as good as the one I had, but they wouldn't have asked me to work nonstop, like I have in the past. My boss and I weren't friends, but he had been my mentor and I thought I could trust him. So I talked with him about the new offer, since I knew that the sponsors had already called the funding into question. He assured me that the project would go on. In retrospect, I guess he was aware that, because I trusted him, I would turn the other opportunity down." His fists curl in a tight ball. "And all that time, I was going to lose my job in his firm, leaving me with nothing."

Bella absorbs Edward's words, thinking of the web of lies his boss has fed him. Though he seems to be trying to keep his voice calm, she can sense the hurt behind his revelation. "Why did he stab you in the back?" she asks, and wonders if her words have been too direct.

"It was my punishment."

"Punishment?"

Edward closes his eyes, his brows furrowed, a mask of pain marring his beautiful features. She feels rage toward whomever hurt him, but then she considers how little she knows about him. What if he's not the good guy she's imagined? Bella recalls his gaze from the ice park, and then the way he acted on the bridge. She trusts him.

He shakes his head, as if he's trying to clear his mind. Before Bella can give in to the temptation to ask more, he goes on. "When my boss and I were still working on a project in Anchorage, I fought with him," he reveals. "It was an important assignment, and I conducted the feasibility study with great care. Some calculations didn't sound right to me, so I suggested some changes that seemed safer. They would slow down the work and would cost more, but I didn't want to take any risk. My boss had the last word on the subject and dismissed my concerns. When I continued to voice my misgivings, he assured me that he was going to check, but he told me that one day I would regret being so stubborn. Actually, my only regret is that I didn't protest more."

"I'm sorry you're hurting," she confesses, her voice as delicate as a wisp of breeze. Not even when she was a human has she felt this kind of connection with another person.

He looks at her, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Talking with you feels so natural. Usually I don't open up like this..." He attempts a small laugh. "Truth be told, I don't open up at all. I don't recognize myself anymore. I'm annoying you with my troubles, and I can't find a way out from the turmoil of the last couple of days. It really seems that a chain has been broken, and now everything it held prisoner is coming out."

She leans closer to him, intrigued by the mention of the chain. He's seen her ice sculpture, and she wonders if what he's just said has any connection with the broken chain of her creation.

"Have you been to the ice park?" he asks. His abrupt change of topic makes her blink a couple of times before answering.

"I've been there often."

He acknowledges her words with a nod. "I was there yesterday evening and a carving..." he stops mid-sentence. "I know, it seems absurd, but well...a sculpture changed everything. I got fired because of it."

* * *

_Thank you for reading! Reviewers get a poem._

* * *

The ice sculpture plays an important role in this story, right? Would you tell me your guess? The next chapter is due to be posted next Monday.

**_Thank you!_ **to my friends **SatinCoveredSteel, Marlena580, **and** Jmolly**, and a special hug to **Camilla10**.

I'm on Twitter (RaumTweet).

_Carnelian and Ice_'s extras (different pics for each chapter, as well as the story banner and blinkie) are posted on MyReadingLounge: h.t.t.p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. c.o.m/


	5. Chains

**Raum  
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**_Carnelian and Ice_  
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**___Chains_**

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_"Have you been to the ice park?" he asks. His abrupt change of topic makes her blink a couple of times before answering._

_"I've been there often."_

_He acknowledges her words with a nod. "I was there yesterday evening and a carving..." he stops mid-sentence. "I know, it seems absurd, but well...a sculpture changed everything. I got fired because of it."_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Which carving do you have in mind?" Bella asks.

Edward's eyes sparkle as if sun rays are dancing on the waves of his sea-colored irises. "It's the most beautiful one of the entire exhibition."

She holds her breath.

"It represents a fire, so well-shaped that it seems real," he goes on. "There's a group of columns in the middle, and they're circled by the flames. I've seen it lit up, and it's stunning. If you've been to the ice park, there's no way you haven't noticed it."

Bella is tempted to tell Edward the truth about her creation, but limits herself to saying, "Yes. I've seen it." She wants him to talk freely about her work of art; listening to his thoughts about it may be the closest she can come to reading his mind. "What do you think it means?"

"At first I thought it was meant to symbolize the natural elements," he explains. "The earth the statue stands upon, the fire, the water in its frozen form—ice, the air all around it – but when I looked closer at it, I noticed a broken chain. It seemed an odd addition, but I wondered if the entire sculpture could be about man, more than about nature."

"Aren't men part of nature? It can be about both–humans and nature," she suggests, following a line of thought she hasn't considered. How could she – an unnatural, inhuman being – have something worthwhile to say about nature or humanity?

"That's a good point," Edward agrees. "But another feature made me think it's meant to represent someone's story."

Bella locks eyes with him. "Tell me that story," she encourages him, her words a delicate plea.

"I crouched to better see the chain and the chiseled flames, and I spotted some quotes engraved on the ice. Writing on ice...can you believe it? The sculptor must be so skilled."

"I recall the quotes. They're verses, right?" She feels bad pretending to be unaware of every detail of her work, while at the same time she's so deeply hoping that Edward will be sincere. But she's savoring this conversation too much to renounce her only chance to have it. Over the years she has spent in her immortal state, Bella has felt as if she were invisible. Since the day she left the vampire who changed and then guided her, she hasn't let anyone in. Until now.

Edward nods. "Love poetry. I'm no expert, so I couldn't match all of them with the literary works to which they belong, but they seem to have something in common. They're about passion, which makes sense since the fire can represent passion, too. But I recognized one of them, and I have a feeling there's more to it than that."

She tilts her head, intrigued. "More?"

"One quote comes from a poem about a lonely woman who mourns her lost love. I remember the whole poem."

Bella's gapes as she recalls the verses. Edward is right.

"The verses, the chain, the tension toward the light," he goes on. "I can only guess that there's a deep sorrow behind that creation, and at the same time, there's hope. According to its title, the darkness doesn't have the power to overcome the light."

"Or so I'd like to hope," Bella whispers, too low to be heard by human ears. The attraction she feels for Edward pushes her to be straightforward in her question. "Why do you say that the sculpture made you get fired?"

Edward runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. "At this point you'll be thinking I'm completely crazy, right?" His gaze is sheepish.

She reaches out a hand, as if to comfort him with a caress, but stops mid-air. "No," she tells him softly.

"Yesterday, when I went back to my hotel after visiting the exhibition, I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about the carving, and it was like discovering multiple layers," he explains. "That broken chain...it was as if it were trying to tell me something."

"I'm fascinated by the way you talk about that sculpture," she tells him. "I'm sure the artist would be so pleased to know you gave so much attention to it."

Edward lets out an embarrassed laugh. "Actually, today I went to the ice park in the early morning and asked around about the artist."

Bella almost gapes at him. "Really?"

He shrugs. "No one seems to know anything about the reclusive I. S. Carnelian, though. A man from the staff said to come back in the afternoon, but after what happened at work..." he trails off. Every light disappears from his face, and the vibrant green of his eyes solidifies in a hard expression.

Controlling herself to the utmost, Bella grazes his knuckles. His skin is warm and smooth under her touch. She wishes she could have her human body back just for a moment...just to give the unknown man beside her the comfort of a hug – a small friendly gesture. "Edward," she calls softly. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't feel comfortable."

Edward stares down at her hand, following its movement on his skin, but Bella retreats before he can touch her as well.

He sighs. "I wish I could explain the confusion I feel. Today I realized how, for years, I've imprisoned myself with the chains of my job and the compromises I accepted because of it. My career became the flames that devoured everything else...and for what? Just for the sake of money, my boss was going to risk the lives of the people who would live in the building we are constructing. Last night the thought gave me nightmares. It takes so little to cause a tragedy – low quality materials, a mistake in the calculations when you work too fast because you want to get as many projects as possible – and every time the chains that keep you prisoner of your own greed become heavier."

"So you broke away."

He takes a deep breath. "My boss and I had an argument, and that was the final straw. I told him I was going to ask for a revision of the project I had concerns about, and he didn't take it well, obviously."

"You did the right thing."

Edward abruptly turns toward her, and when he speaks again, his voice is cold. "Isn't it too late? I'm disgusted at myself for letting things go on for so long. I spent the afternoon wondering how I could have become such a monster. But I didn't find any answer."

"You're not a monster!" Bella blurts out.

He grimaces. "I wish I could share your opinion."

"You made mistakes, but you tried to fix them," she insists. "When you realized that the path you were following was just destroying whatever good you had in your life, you had the strength to change direction, no matter the cost. Isn't that the meaning of the sculpture that struck you so much? That striving toward the light isn't meant only for perfect people? The more you've experienced the darkness, the more you long for the light."

"But what if it's too late for me to deserve the light?"

Bella stills. Telling Edward that she believes he deserves the light and a new life would be easy – it would be the truth. But she's at a loss for words, trying to understand what she deserves. For the umpteenth time, she recalls the circumstances of her change.

_She and Angela – her best friend since high school – had just completed their second year at Florida State University. When Angela found a low-cost flight to Alaska, they decided on the spot to take the opportunity to visit. They had spent a few days in both Anchorage and Fairbanks, then decided to drive their rental car down to Valdez. They were exploring the area around the Lowe River, just south of Thompson Pass, when..._

Even after ten years, the memory makes Bella shiver. Yet, she can't stop the images flooding her mind.

_A moose cut across their path. Angela slammed on the brakes and did her best to avoid the large animal, but it wasn't enough. The last moments of Bella's human life were the crash – a scream, the sound of her heartbeat drumming in her ears. She felt as if she were drowning, as if the world were fading around her. Then she was crushed by a sharp pain._

_When the pain subsided, Bella was met by the sight of a beautiful woman with large, golden eyes, so beautiful that she wondered if she had died and gone to Heaven. She hadn't reached Heaven, the woman explained, but die she had. Was it Hell? Bella could compare the pain she had just experienced to being burned by ferocious flames. But what had she done to deserve Hell? And why had the pain stopped?_

_The kind woman revealed to her the incredible truth. She was a vampire and had seen the car crash that had cost Angela her life. Bella had still been alive, but in very bad condition. The woman couldn't bear to let her die, but she couldn't do anything to save her human life. So she had transformed her in a vampire._

Silence wraps around Bella and Edward like a blanket, in the few seconds while Edward's question lingers in the air, and Bella wanders among her memories. _Do __I __deserve __any __light?_ she asks herself. What if her condition – a perpetual longing for things she won't ever have, an eternal sadness, a miserable loneliness – is her personal damnation?

"Don't give up," she breaths, without knowing if she's replying to Edward's question or if she's talking to herself. "As soon as you believe it's too late, you're letting the darkness win over the light."

She bows her head under the weight of that realization. If there's a glimmer of hope, she doesn't want to lose it.

Edward reaches out his hands and cups her cheeks.

The bloodthirsty monster inside Bella has been quiet after she tamed it on the bridge where she met Edward. But Edward's touch catches her off-guard.

And the monster awakens.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! Reviewers get a poem._

* * *

Err...those who have read my other stories (they're all complete now!) know how much I like cliffies. Will Edward become dessert? Tell me your opinion in your review. The next chapter is due to be posted next Monday.

**_Thank you!_ **to my friends **SatinCoveredSteel, Marlena580, **and** Jmolly**; a special hug to **Camilla10**.

I'm on Twitter (RaumTweet).

_Carnelian and Ice_'s extras (different pics for each chapter, as well as the story banner and blinkie) are available on MyReadingLounge: h.t.t.p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. c.o.m/

Flash news: I'm doing the NaNoWriMo. More details on MyReadingLounge.


	6. Ghost

**Raum  
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**_Carnelian and Ice_  
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**___Ghost_**

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_Edward reaches out his hands and cups her cheeks._

_The bloodthirsty monster inside Bella has been quiet after she tamed it on the bridge where she met Edward. But Edward's touch catches her off-guard._

_And the monster awakens._

_x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Before Edward can blink, Bella's gone, slamming herself against the farthest wall. In her desperate attempt to put as much distance as possible between herself and the human man who appeals so greatly to her predatory instincts, she collides with a tall glass cabinet behind her. Splinters of glass and wood fall around her, the noise combining with Edward's frightened yell.

He lurches to his feet, staggering backwards; his movement upsets the table lamp, which tumbles down to the thick carpet with a dull thud. He stares at Bella, his heart throbbing frantically, his breath caught in his throat.

_Don't __breathe_, Bella reminds herself. Sweet and delicious, Edward's scent makes her mouth water. She clenches her hands into fists, her nails digging into her flesh. She loathes herself, since his fear can't help but entice the monster inside her, teasing her with the temptation to prey on him.

"What happened?" Edward growls. He looks around himself, apparently trying to focus. His expression is shocked as he spots the shattered glass behind Bella, and his eyes shift back to her, his heart beating even faster than before. "Isabella?" He shakes his head in disbelief, as if his mind is unwilling to accept what he has witnessed.

When he moves, closing the distance between them on his way to the door, Bella is forced to speak. "Stay still!"

Edward stops in his tracks. He looks at the few steps between himself and the door, and between himself and Bella. She can't read his mind, but she surmises he's calculating whether he would be able to reach the door before she reaches him. When he gives Bella a cold, guarded glance, she imagines he's understood that she would be faster.

"Edward," she says in her softest tone, her hands held up, palms forward. "I mean you no harm."

After an incredibly long moment, Edward's posture relaxes slightly and his heartbeat slows down.

Bella takes a few tentative breaths, testing her control. When she's sure that her inner monster is bridled again, she smiles at Edward in apology. "I am so sorry."

"How did you..." He hesitates. His gaze travels to the broken glass again before returning to her. "What the hell is going on?"

"Please forgive me," she says. "I can control myself. You caught me off-guard. But I'm on my best behavior now."

"Control yourself from doing what?" he blurts. "I just saw you flying across the room! And the glass–" He stops mid-sentence and points to Bella's neck and chest.

She swallows as she sees what Edward has noticed and understands his shock. A long splinter of glass has cut a deep gash through the fabric of her dress. Had she been human, she would have been bleeding profusely. Instead, there's no wound visible through the jagged hole in her garment.

"Are you hurt?" Edward asks, a nervous grimace on his face.

"No," Bella admits quietly. He has already witnessed her speed and invulnerability, and now her admission only further confirms that she doesn't belong to his kind — not anymore.

"Who are you?" he mutters, articulating his words with maddening slowness.

Bella doesn't answer. _If __you __only __knew_, she thinks. She ducks her head and wishes she could become even smaller – she wishes she could disappear. Slowly, with her shoulders still slumped, she retreats toward the window. "If you go, I won't follow you," she murmurs. "But you will not mention a word about this to anyone," she warns. "Understood?"

She waits for him to run. The seconds trickle away, but Edward doesn't leave. "Why are you still here?" she snaps.

"Tell me who you are," he insists.

"What do you think I am?"

He lets out a deep sigh. "You're not human."

She nods.

"When I saw you moving so fast, I wondered if you were a ghost," he goes on. "You're very pale, and when you touched my hand, I felt how unnaturally cold your skin is."

"A ghost," she mutters. "Do you believe in mythical creatures?"

He shrugs. "Not really. But sometimes I've pondered the reason why people find them so fascinating. I guess it's just because we all hope that death won't be the end of everything. We need to believe that something of us will remain, that we won't be forgotten."

She lets out a bitter laugh. "Stuck on Earth, knowing I won't ever get back what I lost—my humanity, my life. When you look at it that way, I'm not much different from a ghost, am I? But a ghost is supposed to be harmless, while I am not. I'm a monster, Edward," she admits. "I'm an inhuman predator who shouldn't exist." Her words become louder, and a low growl rumbles in her chest as she reveals the truth. "I'm a vampire."

Edward's eyes widen, and Bella expects for his heart to beat like it's about to explode. She waits for him to curse the bad luck which brought him in the den of a repulsive bloodsucker; if he had gone to his hotel sooner, or if he had chosen a different route, he would have escaped all this.

He swallows hard and straightens to his full height. "Isabella."

She lifts her head to find him staring at her, his gaze earnest and serious, without any cowardice.

"Are you going to kill me?"

Bella shudders at the mere thought. "No," she vows. "I swear I won't."

Edward processes her words, but doesn't relax. "But if you spare me, you'll take someone else," he considers.

She shakes her head with force, her eyes shut. The awareness of what her nature calls her to do makes her recoil in disgust. "I've never killed a human," she affirms, silently pleading with Edward to believe her. "I've always managed to stop myself in time. I feed off animal blood." Her confession is met with a long silence. "You don't have to be afraid, Edward," she tells him softly. "You're safe. I won't hurt you."

She finally finds the courage to voice her question. "May I come closer?"

As soon as Edward nods, she closes the distance between them. His expression is kind when he looks down at her, towering over her petite figure.

"Would you stop me, if I tried to leave?"

She shakes her head.

"Do you want me to leave right now?"

Again, she shakes her head.

He holds out a hand toward her, waiting for her to initiate contact. After a few seconds, Bella wraps her fingers around his. Edward takes a small step closer, opening his arms, and she can feel his warmth radiating from his body in welcoming waves. Before her concerns for his safety can stop her, she leans into his embrace. She trembles as he pulls her frame against his chest, close to his heart. He rests his chin on top of her head and brushes her hair – his touch so gentle and comforting that, if she were still human, Bella would abandon herself to the relief of a cry. But she's no longer human, and the tears will never come.

"I've wanted to hug you since I saw you on the bridge," he whispers. "Now tell me: what sorrow is devouring you?"

* * *

_Thank you for reading! Reviewers get a poem._

* * *

Bella would like to thank you for your trust. She cares for Edward, and it seems that Edward cares for her as well. What's going to happen, now that the truth has been revealed? Tell me your opinion in your review. The next chapter is due to be posted next Monday.

**_Thank you!_ **to my friends **SatinCoveredSteel, Marlena580, **and** Jmolly**; a special hug to **Camilla10**.

I'm on Twitter (RaumTweet).

_Carnelian and Ice_'s extras (different pics for each chapter, as well as the story banner and blinkie) are available on MyReadingLounge: h.t.t.p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. c.o.m/


	7. Carnelian

**Raum  
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**_Carnelian and Ice_  
**

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**___Carnelian_**

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_Edward takes a small step closer, opening his arms, and she can feel his warmth radiating from his body in welcoming waves. Before her concerns for his safety can stop her, she leans into his embrace. She trembles as he pulls her frame against his chest, close to his heart. He rests his chin on top of her head and brushes her hair – his touch so gentle and comforting that, if she were still human, Bella would abandon herself to the relief of a cry. But she's no longer human, and the tears will never come._

_"I've wanted to hug you since I saw you on the bridge," he whispers. "Now tell me: what sorrow is devouring you?"_

_-x-x-x-x-x-x-  
_

For the first time since her metamorphosis, Bella lets her façade drop. Her first words are a whisper – she tells Edward how she died in a car crash, and how many years she's endured since she became a vampire. She recalls fragments of her human life, entrusting them to him as if they were delicate shells from a sea she won't be able to admire again.

Edward draws her with him to the couch, where he gathers her into his arms. Comforted by the warmth of his embrace, she talks about Alice, the vampire who changed her, and tells him of their years together. It's thanks to her that Bella overcame the maddening first months of her new existence without attacking a single human. Alice mentored her with the experience she'd acquired through decades as a vampire, as well as the enthusiasm she'd kept from her human life. When Bella pined for what she had lost on that fatal day, when a sightseeing trip to Thompson Pass and Valdez had ended with her and Angela meeting their fates along the Lowe River, Alice never failed to support her. Thanks to her, Bella learned to mingle with humans, as far as it's allowed for immortals. Together, they got an apartment in Fairbanks and started up a graphic designing service based on the Internet.

"So Alice is still with you?" Edward asks.

"No." The moment of their separation comes back to her; Alice's room is the one she identified as the "guest room" to Edward – its first guest. "Alice had...well...she has a gift," Bella begins to explain, pondering how much she should disclose about her friend. "She can see the future, in the form of random visions. Three years ago, she had a vision about her mate."

"Mate?"

"For a vampire, a mate is his or her true other half. Vampires mate for life, or at least that's what Alice explained to me." _Vampires_. Bella can't help but notice how easily the word slips from her mouth, even though she's talking with someone who shouldn't believe that her kind even exists. "She had a vision of an empty diner in Philadelphia and of the man she'd been waiting for a long time, so she left immediately to go find him. Her premonition proved to be true. Now she's married to Jasper, and they've relocated to Canada. They asked me to join them, but I refused. As odd as it might seem, Alaska is the only home I've known since my change, and I couldn't bring myself to leave it for long."

Edward tightens his embrace around her before voicing his question. "But you're alone here."

Bella scoffs. She tilts up her head, boring into him with her gaze. "Is there anything strange about that? Who would ever seek the company of a monst–"

Edward's fingers touch her lips before she can complete the sentence. If Bella's heart weren't still, it would skip a beat due to her shock; what man knowing the truth would allow himself so close to her razor-sharp teeth?

"Don't say that word," he softly admonishes her. He cups her face in his hands, and the touch of his fingers is scorching on her icy skin. "Why do you see yourself that way? Based on everything you told me, you've always tried to rise above—to conquer the boundaries of a destiny that you didn't choose. You're trying so hard to retain whatever essential humanity you can. You're a beautiful woman. You're brave."

His kindness makes Bella squirm. Embarrassed, she grabs his wrists and effortlessly distances him from herself.

"Don't push me away, please," he says.

"I want to believe you, but..."

"But?"

She lowers her gaze and lets another defense fall in front of him. "I'm afraid to hope."

"When we talked about the ice sculpture, we agreed that the darkness doesn't have the power to overcome the light, didn't we?" he reminds her. "You greatly encouraged me, showing me that light. Your generosity toward me, your insight about that ice carving...there's so much beauty in you." He sighs. "You don't see yourself very clearly, you know."

Bella turns herself toward him. "I wish I could see myself the way you see me."

"Just think about it, okay?" He stifles a yawn, then, and he offers a sheepish smile. "Maybe sleeping on it will help."

The mention of sleeping gets Bella's attention. She caresses Edward's cheek, circling his tired eyes. The weight of the hard day he's gone through shows clearly on his face. _He __needs __some __rest_, she thinks, touched by his humanity.

"You're exhausted," she observes. Bella fishes around in her memories until the image of her room back at her parents' house resurfaces. She recalls many evenings she spent studying until late, when she craved nothing more than the comfort of a few hours' sleep. If she focuses enough, she can almost remember the feeling of her muscles relaxing while she snuggled up under the blankets, and the pleasant numbness as sleep took her.

Edward takes her hand in his. "I haven't slept much lately."

"May I show you the guest room?"

He nods. "Where do you...?"

He leaves his question incomplete, following her toward the guest room, but she understands what he means; she gives him a small laugh, imagining he's thinking about coffins or other common beliefs about vampires. "I don't sleep at all."

Edward's eyes widen in shock, making Bella worry if tonight's revelations have been too much for him. She gestures to the tiny bedroom, which is decorated elegantly in shades of green. "My room is next door. I furnished it as a study and use it for work. The kitchen..." She chuckles. "Well, it's just for appearance's sake. Sometimes I come here to read or to watch TV," she adds, pointing to the wooden double bed in the center of the room.

She toys with a lock of her hair, unsure about what to do. "Have good night," she says finally.

Edward turns toward her and puts his hands on her shoulders. "Thank you, Isabella." Moving slowly, he brushes his lips over her forehead. She stills under his touch. She's afraid he will wince, repulsed by her cold, hard skin, and she's ready to retreat. But when his mouth caresses her cheek, moving closer to her lips, a soft moan escapes her.

"Would you stay?" he whispers.

Bella doubts if she's heard right, but before she can reply, Edward repeats his invitation. "I realize it will probably be tremendously boring, since I'll only be sleeping, but would you stay here with me?"

"Would you trust me?" she can't help but ask, finding it hard to believe that Edward would accept an inhuman predator in the same room with him while he's defenseless, abandoned to his slumber. Of course, not even an armored door would stop a vampire, but still...

He chuckles. "I thought we'd already covered this point. I do trust you."

A few minutes later they're facing each other on the bed. They simply hold hands, trying hard to not embarrass each other with closer contact. It doesn't take long for Edward to fall asleep.

Bella looks at him in awe. She takes in his handsome features – the strong line of his jaw, his broad chest, his well-defined muscles. Too low to be heard by human ears, she whispers to him her thoughts about the night they're sharing.

He stirs, and utters a word. "Isabella."

Bella is mesmerized by the sweetness with which her name falls from his lips. Out of habit, she used to correct those who called her Isabella and always pointed out that she goes by Bella. With Edward, she hasn't felt that need. On the contrary, she likes him calling her by her complete name, because that is the way he makes her feel: whole.

Edward's lips stretch in a smile, and Bella wonders what he's dreaming of.

"Carnelian," he murmurs in his sleep.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! Reviewers get a poem._

* * *

Do you think Edward has figured out that Bella and I.S. Carnelian are the same person? Or it's just his subconscious talking? Tell me your opinion in your review.

The next chapter is due to be posted next Monday.

**_Thank you!_ **to my friends **SatinCoveredSteel, Marlena580, **and** Jmolly**; a special hug to **Camilla10**. Camilla has posted a new story! If you've watched BD2, you can't miss it: "Seeing the Wolves," by Camilla10. s/8716970/1/Seeing-the-Wolves

I'm on Twitter (RaumTweet).

_Carnelian and Ice_'s extras (different pics for each chapter, as well as the story banner and blinkie) are available on MyReadingLounge: h.t.t.p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. c.o.m/


	8. Pilgrim at Sea

**Raum  
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**_Carnelian and Ice_  
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**___Pilgrim at Sea  
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**Happy Monday! **_Carnelian and Ice_** has been reviewed by the lovely Midnight Cougar on RobAttack. The review is fantastic, and there are many other suggestions if you're looking for stories where Bella is a vampire and Edward is a human. The link is on MyReadingLounge (Story Extras).**

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_Edward's lips stretch in a smile, and Bella wonders what he's dreaming of._

_"Carnelian," he murmurs in his sleep._

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When a soft gray light begins to filter through the blinds, Edward's sleep becomes less peaceful. He twists and turns under the blankets, finally tossing them away, and drapes an arm over Bella's waist. She curls up beside him with her back against his chest, delighted by that moment of bliss. When his fingers lightly squeeze her hip, she turns onto her side and looks up at him.

Had the sun risen in Bella's room, it wouldn't have been as bright and warm as the smile that Edward gives her when their gazes meet. He blinks, pushing away the last remnants of grogginess; without any artificial light, his irises are as vibrant as Ireland's greenest hills.

"Good morning," she mouths at him, trying to make the comforting silence last as long as possible.

Edward doesn't seem to notice that his arm is still circling Bella's body. Although he'd done it unaware, while sleeping, he doesn't appear to regret it now. "It is indeed." He pulls his hand away from her, only to brush aside a strand of her hair that is partially covering her face. "You stayed."

She nods. "Thank you for asking me to stay."

He seems on the verge of saying something, but stops. "What are your plans today?"

"Same routine. I work from home, except for a few job meetings. And you?"

"I'm flying back to Anchorage in the afternoon."

Bella hides her disappointment as well as she can. In a few hours, Edward will be gone for good. _What __did __you __expect?_ she silently reprimands herself.

He takes a long breath. "Then I'm going to begin my new life as a member of the unemployed."

"Do you think it will take long for you to find a new job?"

He stretches, and with a fast, fluid movement, springs up to a sitting position. "Actually, I'm not going to look for a job."

Bella sits up beside him. "Why not?"

"I've worked non-stop since graduation, and I had a part-time job even while I was studying. For years, fulfilling my duties was everything I devoted my life to, but what did I accomplish? I ended up losing my life – I was just existing. A long break will help me clear my mind and decide what I really want to do."

For a moment, she thinks of Edward finally following his dreams and not just work projects, assignments, and requests. They won't see each other again, but the thought that he'll be pursuing his happiness warms her. She closes her eyes and imagines him traveling around the world. "Where will you go?"

"My family is from Washington, and my grandparents left me a small house there. It's nothing more than a cottage, but it faces the sea and is surrounded by woods. There's a meadow nearby, where I used to go when I was a kid. My parents don't understand why I'm so fond of that cabin, and they haven't gone there in years, but it's always been my refuge – a place where I can feel at home and take a break from the routine."

As Bella takes in Edward's words, she envisions him in the meadow, basking in the sunlight; stretched out in the grass, he hums a song to himself. She can almost see him sitting on a rock and leaning back on his elbows while he looks at the sea and lets his thoughts wander over the waves. A question works itself into her daydreams: _W__ill __he __ever __think __of __me?_

"May I ask you something?"

"Anything."

She walks over to a small bookshelf on the opposite wall and retrieves a book. "When you're at the cottage, maybe after a walk on the seashore, would you read this?"

He takes the well-worn book from her hands and looks down at the cover. "_Pilgrim __at __Sea_," he reads aloud. He flips through the pages where she's left tiny notes, underlining some passages. "I gather you're fond of this book."

"I am. My favorite passage talks about how you'll never find peace in any place but on the sea that, instead, never rests." A lump forms in Bella's throat as she recalls her human life. "When I lived in Florida, I used to look for the beaches that were less crowded by tourists. To me, the sea was like a friend, and there were days when I would go for a walk and spend the entire afternoon reading, lulled by the sound of the waves crashing on the seashore."

With his index finger, Edward traces the contours of the drawing on the book cover. He stares down at it, his brow furrowed in a frown, and appears lost in his thoughts. When he tilts up his head, he gives Bella a tentative smile. His heartbeat is quickening, and she can almost feel his cheeks warming. She wishes she could read his mind and know why he's so pensive.

His words answer her unspoken question. "Not a love poem this time, Carnelian?"

She gapes at him but doesn't speak. She remembers how he spoke that name while he was sleeping – the way he smiled while uttering that word, and the tenderness with which he pronounced it never left her mind. She bites on her lower lip. _Come __on_, she tells herself. _You've __already __revealed __to __him __who __you __are. __He __knows __about __your __nature, __and __all __you're __nervous __about __is __that __he's __figured __out __that __you're __Carnelian?_ Her rational thoughts aren't enough to placate her embarrassment, because for her, talking about her art and the ice sculpture's backstory is more intimate than keeping the secret about her kind.

"How d-did you..." is all she manages to stutter.

Edward reaches out for her hand. He's careful to not push her limits, and his fingers barely glide over hers. "Isabella," he says. "I want you to know I wouldn't tell anyone. Everything you told me will stay between us. The way you talked about the ice sculpture intrigued me from the beginning, but I dismissed the notion that you could have any connection to the artist who carved it. I imagine it requires a lot of strength to shape the ice in that way, and you're so petite." He takes her wrists and lightly pulls at them, inviting her into his embrace. Once again, she seeks refuge in his acceptance. "But then, after what happened..." he trails off, skipping the awful moment when she almost attacked him. She stiffens at the memory, but Edward draws circles on her back until she relaxes. "The idea that you could have done the carving wasn't so absurd anymore. And then, I noticed the drawing in the corridor."

Bella is impressed by his power of observation. Just outside the guest room, there's a drawing she used as inspiration for the columns that are at the core of the sculpture. It was nothing but a sketch, but she'd put it on the wall because it was like keeping a part of the carving with her, even when she wasn't working at the ice park. "I shouldn't have lied to you," she confesses.

He puts a finger under her chin and tilts up her head. "I could have pretended that I hadn't figured it out, but it seems I can't keep anything from you." A grin flickers over his face, quickly replaced by a serious expression. "I told you I've never opened up to someone like I did with you. The thought that you made the sculpture that amazed me so much only enhances the power of the connection I feel with you."

Bella tightens her hold around Edward as much as she dares without harming him. Resting her head against his chest, she can sense the flow of his blood under his warm skin, as well as the vibration of it while he talks. _Never __opened __up __to __someone __like __I __did __with __you...the __connection __I __feel..._His words sink in, as if they were raindrops drenching her to the bone. She's surrounded by his bravery, his honesty, his kindness. "Don't go." The quiet plea comes to her lips, but she can't resolve to speak loud enough for him to hear her.

Her body acts on its own; her lips brush over his neck and trace his jaw, until their breath mingles. Shivers run down Bella's back as Edward moistens his lips. Her arms loosen their hold on him, and her fingers graze his sides, making him shiver in turn. Their eyes meet as her hands slide up the front of his shirt to rest upon his shoulders. Reflected in his eyes, she sees her own shy smile lighting up her face. He cradles her face in his hands and captures her lower lip between his.

Like velvet over polished marble, their mouths meet.

Bella closes her eyes, and all she can feel is Edward: his touch—delicate at first and then more passionate—and his heart, drumming faster and faster, in time with his hungry kisses.

She inhales deeply, and this time it isn't his blood she focuses on. Edward's scent reminds her of the woods north of Worthington Glacier, an area she frequents often. She feels connected to it, given its proximity to the place where she lost one life and began another. She recalls how content she felt, walking on the smooth surface of ice, with nothing between her and the sky. Over her years in Alaska, she has contemplated the immensity of nature—the vastness of the uncontaminated landscapes that always leaves her stunned. Enclosed in Edward's arms, drowning in the pleasure of the most human gesture of love, she feels the same, inexpressible joy.

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**Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a poem.**

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Awww...they kissed and no cliffs. It was about time...But wait! Edward is leaving, isn't it? What are he and Bella going to do?

The next chapter is due to be posted in two weeks.

**_Thank you!_ **to my friends **SatinCoveredSteel, Marlena580, **and** Jmolly**; a special hug to **Camilla10**.

I'm on Twitter (RaumTweet).

_Carnelian and Ice_'s extras (different pics for each chapter, as well as the story banner and blinkie) are available on MyReadingLounge: h.t.t.p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. c.o.m/


	9. Melt

**Raum  
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**_Carnelian and Ice_  
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_****____Melt_  


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Happy Monday! _Carnelian and Ice _has been nominated as **Best WIP featured in 2012** at Rob Attack Fan Fiction Fridays. There are still some days to vote, so please check the poll! You can just Google **Rob Attack Best Rec'd on FanFiction Fridays 2012** and you'll get the link to vote.

Once again, thanks for your extraordinary support.

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_If you love someone, set them free._

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Walking along the Johansen Expressway, Bella doesn't spare even a glance at the area where the Ice Art Championship took place. She hasn't visited the park since the day she met Edward. Once again, she's disappeared; if the staff of the championship ever tried to contact the enigmatic Carnelian, they were surely disappointed. Speaking of contact...she lightly pats her phone in her jacket pocket and, for the umpteenth time, questions herself about what she's done.

"_Would you give me your phone number?" Edward asked. _

_Bella recalled how the few humans she had approached before meeting him had asked her that same question. Her answers were different every time, but they'd had something in common: the fake phone numbers she gave them were related to some of the memories she had been able to keep from her human life – her date of birth, the street number of her parents' house..._

_She gave her phone number to Edward, hoping she wouldn't regret her decision._

Bella recalls how, as soon as Edward left in the taxi that would take him to his hotel and then to the airport, she locked the guest room's door and stopped herself from even going to the window and watching the car leave. For hours, she forced herself to focus on nothing but her job, clinging to the poster she was designing as if it were an anchor that could save her from drowning in Edward's scent, and reveling in the memories of his kisses and embraces. She switched off her phone and went to lie down on her couch. Once again, she felt cursed by her condition, denied even the few hours of peace that sleep would have given her. Her mind wandered back to the words of her favorite books, forever impressed on her unerring memory. Without the need to actually reread them, she recited some passages from the biographies of the artists who inspired her. Then, she thought about the novel that was now in Edward's hands.

Quite a few days went by with the same routine.

Bella looks up from the sidewalk, taking note of her surroundings. Her feet have carried her all the way to the complex of warehouse-like 'box' stores on the east side of town. She turns south, barely glancing at the massive buildings as she passes them. The locals have branded them eyesores, but that doesn't stop them from shopping there in droves. Bella continues without a real destination in mind. She passes a group of young people on bicycles; one of the boys stares at her, but she pays him no mind.

She has reached the Bentley Mall, and on a whim, she decides to walk through it. She ambles down the wide hallway, looking absently at the various items on display in the glass-fronted stores, until she stops in front of a clothing shop.

A woman is decorating the window for the upcoming spring and is putting an elegant summer dress on the mannequin. It's a deep blue sleeveless long tunic with a high-belted waist and a knee-length loose skirt. The outfit is paired with a wrap and silver sandals with stiletto heels. The saleswoman notices Bella staring at the dress. With a welcoming smile, she invites her in. "Would you like to try it?" she mouths.

Bella's instinctive reaction would be to shake her head and walk away. The garment is to her taste, but..._Where __would __you __ever __wear __something __like __this?_ she asks herself. She stops in her tracks – she knows where. If she could, she would be blushing as she enters the shop.

When she comes out carrying a bag with her newest purchases – and with the compliments that the shop assistant paid her still resonating in her ears – a shy smile dances on her face. Like a snowdrop tentatively emerging after a long winter, joy is trying to find a way into her frozen heart. The events of the last few days have been like sunrays in spring. At first, they seemed to be reflected by the ice that represents her existence. But then, they stubbornly found a way to melt her fears, her distrust – her doubts that she could actually find happiness.

Bella reflects on how often a small, insignificant event can change everything. When she had switched her phone on, she was just going to make calls to tell her customers that she had completed her assignment and was going to send it soon. The beep of an incoming message hadn't piqued her curiosity, at first. But then...

_When she saw the picture of a high cliff, she thought that someone had dialed the wrong number. A cottage stood atop the cliff, reminding her of some pictures she had seen of Ireland – the stark contrast between its green hills and the blue of the surrounding seas had been the inspiration for one of her many paintings._

_The image on her phone was accompanied by a text containing an address, and the state abbreviation put her on alert. The only person she knew in Washington was the one who had her heart with him._

_She read the full text: Edward was inviting her to join him in his secret place. Bella was sure that, if she could have cried, her eyes would have been brimming with tears. On a whim, she dashed to the city outskirts and went for a run through the woods. Under the moonlight, walking on the thinning blanket of snow that still covered the ground, she mulled over the different paths that lay before her._

_She could let her existence go on, like a glacier that would last forever, in a perpetual winter. Edward had an actual life. He would change, like the seasons alternating every year. He was going through a difficult time, but like the snow melting on the outskirts of Fairbanks, that darkness would fade, and sooner or later he would enjoy a new spring. There would be light in his life – there would be bloom. _

_Bella looked at the stars, as if they could ever advise her, and realized she didn't want to walk beneath that starry sky, a century or a millennium from then, with her frozen heart full of regrets. _

_On her way home, she got a text from Alice. On the day her psychic friend had left, they made a pact: Alice promised to interfere with Bella's choices as little as possible, keeping her visions to herself, unless Bella was in actual danger and Alice's gift could help her. In that text, her best friend complimented her on the choice she had just made._

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Bella returns to her house and brings her luggage to the foyer. It isn't long before the taxi arrives and takes her to the airport.

In that same moment, Edward is looking at the sky, counting the hours before Isabella – _m__y __precious __Carnelian_, in his thoughts – will be in his arms again.

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**Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a poem.**

* * *

The next chapter will be the last one, and I hope to post it as a Christmas present for you. Given the cold weather, I guess we can use something hot; be aware: there will be juicy yellow fruits. You know what I mean.

**_Thank you!_ **to my friends **SatinCoveredSteel, Marlena580, **and** Jmolly**; a special hug to **Camilla10**.

I'm on Twitter (RaumTweet).

_Carnelian and Ice_'s extras (different pics for each chapter, as well as the story banner and blinkie) are available on MyReadingLounge: h.t.t.p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. c.o.m/


	10. On the Edge of a Knife

**Raum  
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**_Carnelian and Ice_  
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_****____On the Edge of a Knife_  


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_12.21.2012. Something is ending today: enjoy the last chapter of this story, and the last one I'm posting in the 2012. I'm working on a new story, and I hope to post the first chapter in January 2013. Would you like to put me on author alert?_

_This week MyReadingLounge is celebrating its 2nd birthday. A special post is on its way! _

_Once again, thanks for your extraordinary support. I've posted four stories this year, and I've completed _An Italian Winter_. Your reviews, your recs, and your kind words are precious to me, and they're the best encouragement ever. I wish you all the very best._

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_Shaking herself out of her reverie, Bella returns to her house and brings her luggage to the foyer. It isn't long before the taxi arrives and takes her to the airport._

_In that same moment, Edward is looking at the sky, counting the hours before Isabella – my precious Carnelian, in his thoughts – will be in his arms again._

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Edward has always been fond of his cottage, a place filled with family memories since the time of his childhood. His parents haven't spent their holidays there in years—not since he inherited it from his grandparents–so he's always visited it on his own. Over the years, he's added some personal touches to the furniture: a new couch where he spends his evenings playing the guitar in front of the fireplace, a few sketches by his favorite architects on the walls, and a bookshelf filled with catalogs of photography exhibitions he's visited during his travels.

He's never brought a woman here before, and when he enters the house with Bella, he stops to look at her in his refuge. Over the past few days, he's imagined this scene so many times, afraid that she wouldn't accept his invitation; he's replayed the things he told her in Fairbanks and the ones he's left unsaid, wondering if he would ever get the chance to talk with her again.

_Now __she's __here_, he tells himself. She's back in his arms and his life, and for him it's like this retreat has always been waiting for her. He used to think he was complete in himself, and instead, Bella's presence in his home gives new meaning to everything in it—every object, every memory. Hasn't his music been composed for her to listen to? Won't the photographs he's collected give them ideas for new travels together? He looks forward to taking her for walks along the familiar paths in the woods that surround the cottage. He wants to show her all the places where she'll be able to enjoy the sun and the sea without the fear of being exposed for what she is; he knows how much she has missed those things, and he wants to give them back to her.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Bella has kept her hand intertwined with Edward's ever since he came to pick her up at the airport. She recalls how the crowd around her disappeared the moment she spotted him.

Since Alice left, every time Bella came back from a business trip, she envied the people who looked around, searching for someone who'd come to meet them at the arrivals lounge. She used to walk with her head bowed, knowing that she would never see anyone waiting for her, and she tried her best to shut out the cheerful symphony of greetings, laughs, and welcoming words.

This time, Edward's loving gaze was there, inviting her into his embrace. As she further reconnected with his warmth, his scent, and his touch, Bella felt more and more how much she'd missed him.

"Thank you for coming," he whispered in her ear.

_Where __else __should __I __have __gone?_ she thought as she burrowed herself in his embrace.

She asks herself the same question now that he's welcoming her into his home. _Of __all __the __places __in __the __world, __this __is __the __one __where __I __finally __feel __I __belong_.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The night wears on as they sit in front of the fireplace. They've talked and laughed and daydreamed together, and they haven't managed to complete a single sentence without the interruption of a kiss.

Edward's caresses and the heat radiating from the fireplace have warmed Bella's skin considerably, making her more confident in her touch. When she reaches under his shirt, Edward takes her by the hips and pulls her to straddle his lap. His caresses slide to her waist, then her ribs.

She rests a hand on his chest, focusing on its rhythm as it rises and falls, and she can both hear and feel his strong heartbeat. _A __lion's __heart_, she thinks, considering how brave he's been in his life choices, refusing to take the easier way when he knew it wasn't the right one.

She rubs her nose along his neck, following the line of the artery. Her tongue darts out to taste his skin, and the contrast between her cool temperature and his is enhanced by the fire that has warmed him up. A soft growl leaves her chest as she savors his scent; it's salty, reminding her of the sea, and rich like the bouquet of a fine wine.

He buries his fingers in the silky mass of her hair and begins to massage her scalp until she tilts her head back, exposing the white column of her long neck. He peppers the spot behind her ear with light kisses, intermingled with words of love. She brushes her cheek against his jaw and feels some stubble there, probably hardly noticeable to a human. He cradles her head in his hands and moves back to her mouth, nipping at her lips before deepening his kiss. Without breaking their contact, he reaches for her sweater and silently asks her permission to remove it. She nods and lifts her arms over her head, surrendering to him as he quickly takes off her garment.

The peaks of her breasts harden under his hungry scrutiny. He cups them both, squeezing them gently, and his index fingers circle her nipples, teasing them. When his touch intensifies, Bella gasps, rocking her hips against him.

One of his hands leaves her chest, sliding down her stomach, past her navel. He leans in, bringing his mouth to the nipple that is now free. He licks at the smooth skin, closing his eyes to better savor her taste, and then sucks gently.

She holds onto the couch's backrest, chanting to herself that she has to control her strength. She is afraid to touch him, because even her prior experiences with human men have not prepared her for the sensations coursing through her body. Even a gentle graze of her fingers could turn deadly if her control were to waver; his blood is too potent, and her nails pose a risk she isn't willing to take.

So far he'd thought that she couldn't be more beautiful; now he's proven wrong, because she's divine as waves of pleasure begin to spread through her body.

Under his touch, she feels weak. She's given Edward so much of herself already – her secrets, her art, her desire to be loved by someone with whom she doesn't have to pretend to be what she isn't. Now she has entrusted her body to his hands, and Edward knows how his touch can bring her heady pleasure, just as his rejection could destroy her.

As if he can read her thoughts, he takes her in his arms. "I love you," he tells her, and the sincerity of his voice seals the words in her heart.

With his palm, he goes along her ribs, the line of her waist, the soft curve of her hips.

A spark of mischief dances in his eyes as he rises up on his knees, easing her backward on the couch until he is kneeling above her. He shuffles backwards, carefully disentangling himself from her legs, and ends up standing at the end of the couch. She props herself up on her elbows, her eyes locked on his chest as he shrugs out of his shirt. His jeans hang loosely on his hips, still buttoned.

A grin spreads across his face, and he raises an eyebrow at her. "Take me," he breathes.

A strangled moan erupts from her throat. _Does __he __know __what __that __means __to __me?_ He's awakening the predator in her, as if he's aware that it will increase her pleasure...but at what cost? He's putting his life at risk, once again putting himself at her mercy. She recalls the night he spent at her house, when he abandoned himself to slumber, knowing that she was beside him when he was at his most vulnerable.

_How __can __you __trust __me __so __much?_ she asks herself. He makes her want to be worthy of his trust, of his love, of his desire.

She smiles at him, signaling that she's ready to play. It would take her the blink of an eye to reach him, but she chooses another strategy. Moving gracefully, she leaps from the couch to land on the opposite side of the room. She cocks her head, still smiling.

He purses his lips, pleased that she's accepting the game. He takes a step back, and she moves forward. Another step back, and their dance continues until he's up against the wall. She comes to a halt and sinks into a crouch, locking her gaze with his. With a swift movement, she jumps and lands in front of him, her cool breath grazing his chest, her long, slender fingers clawing the hem of his jeans.

"Careful," he protests as she tears the garment off his legs, shredding it as if it were paper.

"You shouldn't have provoked me," she counters, her voice hoarse, with the hint of a growl.

He straightens to his full height, towering over her. He swallows hard, and his heartbeat quickens. She roams his body with her gaze, noticing how ready he is. He tilts up her chin until she's looking in his eyes again.

"Let me have you." The game is over, and his words hold the entreaty of a man who's only asking her to trust him like he already trusts her. "Be mine."

He's showed her in every way how he will accept all of her. She knows that if she gives herself to him, it won't be for just one wild night. He's asking her for much more. In the moment when they become one, there won't be any way back, and they both seem aware of that.

"Yes," she murmurs. She puts her hands on his hips and gently tugs at him, leading him back to the couch. "Yes," she repeats with more force.

She lies back on the soft cushions, and he follows, hovering over her. She brings her legs up to encircle his waist, and he covers her belly with kisses, then lifts his head and blows warm air over her skin, starting at her navel and moving further down. She tilts her head back, aching for more.

His head ducks down, and he kisses her again.

Anticipation curls in her gut, and with every breath he makes her shiver.

His fingertips trace along the inside of her thigh, his touch light and teasing. At last, he finds her most intimate spot, sliding one finger inside. "I love you so much," he murmurs, before his mouth captures her lips.

He removes the hand from between her legs and brushes his hardness against her sex. She tries to regain control of her body, reminding herself to be careful not to harm him. They're balanced on the edge of a knife. They have the chance to celebrate the love they feel for each other, which has severed the ties to their past fears. Or they could slip – she could slip – and the knife would turn into a weapon to destroy her mate, and herself with him.

He gently nudges her thighs farther apart, then eases forward; she gasps at his penetration. At his first thrust, she feels like she's gone underwater after throwing herself off a cliff. A myriad of feelings overwhelms her, and a moan is all she manages to utter.

Her hips move on their own, seeking more friction, eager for more pressure.

Edward's rhythm quickly increases, perfectly matching Bella's deepest desires. The tension doesn't allow her to keep her eyes open, every fiber of her focusing on maintaining control while the pleasure invades her.

When she finally lets go, his name becomes a moan, a call, a yell claiming how she wants all of him, all for her.

With a few more thrusts his pleasure arrives as well, her name escaping his lips. Spent, he lowers himself over her, and she embraces him as tightly as she dares, letting his warm body cover her like a shield. He's the knight who destroyed the monster within her. He's the only one who can make her feel protected and safe.

He turns himself until he's resting on his back, and tucks her into his left side. Her fingertips lazily caress his chest, ghosting over his heart. She smiles as she listens to it; it's as if he's lulling her with the sound.

"I love you," she whispers to him.

He turns his face toward her, covering her forehead with delicate pecks. She notices that he's struggling to keep his eyes open. "Sleep, my love," she invites him, using the tone that she knows can affect humans, making them surrender to her will. "Take me with you in your dreams."

Their future stretches before them, full of possibilities. There is still much to discuss about what form that future will take, but there are plenty of days ahead of them for those decisions to be made. All that is certain is that they will be together.

"Good night, my Carnelian," he murmurs, and she smiles. She closes her eyes, although sleep will never come, and doesn't leave his side, savoring every moment of the most beautiful night of her life.

- The End -

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**Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a poem.**

* * *

So, this is my way to wish you Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year.

**_Thank you!_ **to my friends **SatinCoveredSteel, Marlena580, **and** Jmolly**; a special hug to **Camilla10**.

Those extraordinary ladies are amazing. I wish I had the right words to say how much their friendship means to me.

I'm on Twitter (RaumTweet).

_Carnelian and Ice_'s extras (different pics for each chapter, as well as the story banner and blinkie) are available on MyReadingLounge: h.t.t.p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. c.o.m/


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